The Last Miner of Elwynn
by Rhodark
Summary: The story of the fall of Elwynn Forest to the Defias Brotherhood as told through the eyes of an aging miner.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: My very first attempt at a Fan-Fic, spare me the flames. **

_"FOR GLORY AND HONOR!" Came the cry of a stalwart human, his sword raised high in the air, his voice raspy and deep. The man pointed his great longsword directly forward, toward the mass of soldiers before him, his solid plate armor glistening in the afternoon sun._

_The sounds of his men behind him were quite heartening, war-cries and the clattering of shields upon swords was deafening. As he listened to the battlecries of his men, he stared into the throngs of opponents set before him. Countless disfigured beings all either green, blue, decomposing, or furry. All were just faceless nameless pawns in the slaughter to come. Sure, he was outnumbered two-hundred to one, but his men were so well trained, so unbelievably well-suited with the densest armor the grand and true Alliance could possibly forge._

_With one last deafening cry, Rhodark Rehban, Grand Marshal of the Alliance Expeditionary Forces in Central Kalimador, ordered his men to charge, the Horde forces scattering like so man leaves in the wind. The glorious battle then began to fade, Rhodark's mind blurring slowly, the images of men chasing down tauren and Undead disappearing as suddenly as they appeared. Rhodark closed his eyes for one instantaneous moment, then opened them._

_His armor was gone, replaced with tired old chain garments and a very strong helmet. The sounds of men cheering and Horde being gored was replaced with a very light tinking all about him. The vast savannas of the Barrens was replaced with the damp coolness of the rocky Fargodeep Mines._

Rhodark Rheban was back at work. And apparently he had been slacking off. How did he know that?

"RHO! GET BACK TO WORK YOU LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING SON OF A BITCH!"

That's how. His boss, a tall, narrow, red bearded dwarf, was yelling at him between his daydreams.

Seeing no reason to deny his boss, Rhodark picked up his Pick-ax and began hopelessly slamming down upon the slab of wall that had been assigned to him. Not a chunk of copper for months. While Big Bad Bruno two stations down was rollin' out gold and Iron like it was clay. But Rhodark did not complain, he couldn't, it was either this, fishing or farming. And he was bad at one of those and god awful at the other.

Two hours, he worked the mines just two hours more than he'd be out, He could go back to his cozy little cottage in Goldshire, sit on his cozy little chair, bask in his cozy little fire and dream his cozy little violent epic dreams.

But not now! No, no. Now he mined, swinging his pick in a monotonous rythym, never ever getting anything done, no new ores, no decent stones, not even a shard of Tigerseye to be seen. Still he mined on, just working his way, counting his swings and the seconds till his freedom from the damp coolness of the cave into the fresh, warmth of the Elwynn Forest spring.

Turning to the man on his right, who had far to much ore in his cart, Rhodark declared, "Oy, Yeh think ye could mehbeh toss me a couple o' them chunks a metal? Jes sos I kin make quota?" Okay, so his oratory skills were not as well practiced as he would've liked them to be. The basic gist of the message got through.

"Wha-? Oh... Right, help yer self." said the slightly spaced out miner of at most 20 winters.

Rhodark wasted no time unloading half of the boy's surplus into his cart and then going back to his mining.

One hour, then he'd get to go home, to his cozy little cottage.

At about a quarter-hour until the end of his shift, the tall, narrow dwarf from earlier came up to Rhodark, a solemn look on his face.

"Rho! Get ov'r 'ere!"

"Yes sir?" asked Rhodark, exited, perhaps he'd finally get that promaotion! Or maybe they were switching his and Bruno's mining spots! So many thoughts went whirling through his mind that he missed what the dwarf said the first time.

"'scues me? You 'peat that please?"

"'eh said yer fired Rho, yer contract is up and mah superiours say yer too old teh work for us any more, sorry bub."

"Buh...buh... Yeh dont have superiours! yer the bosS! Bosses dont have super-ers."

"Listen. Rhodark. As of this coming Friday, you are no longer an employee of the Venture Company. Now please return to your post and finish out your week."

Returning to the slab of rock assigned to him, Rhodark almost instantly forgot about the conversation he'd had with his dwarven superior. Wether he was just repressing it, or if his memory was truly frail enough to forget about it was yet to be seen.

Finally the whistle blew, and it was time for him to go home. To his cozy little cottage, in his cozy little neck of the wood, just outside of Goldshire.

Upon reaching his place of residence, Rhodark unloaded his equipment onto the floor. Pick-ax, helmet, flimsy chainmail he'd invested in after the first (and apparently only) "mine brawl", and boots.

After relieving himself of all the extra weight, Rhodark settled into his chair and drifted off into a very soft sleep, dreaming of epic battles, retreating horde, and - most of all - of the endless glory to come from the battles.

Little did he know, evil was afoot just outside his home.

---End Chapter---

**AN: Do not worry, I know that action wise the first chappie was a failure, but fret not my friends, there will be plenty of that in the next chapters, Kolbolds, Defias, ****everything.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second Chapter! Here the story finally starts doing stuff. We've got espionage, dark dealings with strange creatures, and another overtly delusional dream of grandure from everyone's favorite Miner, Rhodark Rheban.**

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_"HUZZAH!!" "HAIL RHODARK!" "WE ARE VICTORIOUS!'_

_Came the cries of the people of Stormwind City, gathering around and following a buff, bloodstained warrior, coated in the most ornate, perfect armor ever seen, riding upon a gallant white steed that seemed to radiate exelence. _

_"People of Stormwind!" came the voice of this gallant warrior, "Please clear a path, I have an appointment with the king, you know!"_

_The people heeded his call, not daring to cross the most powerful and noble hero the world had ever known. Riding slowly through the town, soaking up the praise and cheers from the townsfolk, Rhodark Rheban, Grand Marshal of the Alliance, slowly made his way toward the Keep of Stormwind, where he truely did hold an appointment with the noblest of kings, Varian Wrynn. Upon reaching the steps, he dismounted his steed, tied her up next to the archway entrance, and entered the sacred and noble hold. Acending the steps he could still hear the cheers from his adoring fans outside, being held back by guards._

_Upon reaching the king, Rhodark kneeled down infront of him and awaited aknowledgement._

_"Arise, o great and powerful Rhodark Rheban of Elwynn. Truely it is I who should bow to you. Your insurgence into the horde lands was truely amazing, thanks to your efforts, the Horde has never been weaker, and the Alliance has never been stronger. Your burning of the Barrens and overtaking of the grand Tauren capital of Thunder Bluff has given us a perfect opportunity to crush the forces of Orgrimmar once and for all. For your efforts, your reward shall be -"_

CRACK

Rhodark was pushed out of his peaceful slumber by a loud sound near him, almost like a gun-shot, but less deafening. Jumping up in surprise the aging miner looked around frantically for the source of the sound. Nothing was found. The only suspect thing was that his door was open, of course he remembered not closing it so the sound must've come from outside.

Picking up his pick-ax, in-case trouble was to be found, Rhodark proceeded out into the dark Elwynn night.

It did not take long for him to locate the source of the sound. There was a tall figure just 30 yards in front of his home, humanoid, speaking to another much much shorter figure, also humanoid, in a low whisper. Rhodark's hearing was not what it used to be, and only decphered bits and pieces of their convorsation.

**A/N: Ellipses (...) represent pieces of convorsation which Rhodark cannot make out.**

"Why'd... shoot... Goldtooth?" came a very high, shrill voice, nothing like anything Rhodark had ever heard.

"Quite sorry, thought you were...cant be too careful... annoying... but down to buisness." Came a much deeper, very human voice almost unmistakably from the taller figure.

"Yes yes yes, why ... Goldtooth here?"

"You were brought here... alliance... brotherhood... mutally beneficial."

"We no need... weak De... what in it for Goldtooth?"

"Nothing... force... you dont want that do you?" The deep voiced humanoid seemed to be threatening the tinier being with some form of harm, though Rhodark could not here what exactly.

"NO NO NO!!! GOLDTOOTH NOT WANT THAT! KOBOLDS WORK WITH THE -- MRMPHL!" The smaller being was yelling, but was cut off by a hand over its mouth.

"Quiet, stupid! We dont want... hearing... plans...:"

Rhodark was at this point consentrating with deft intensity to try and hear the convorsation that he almost did not notice when he went into a violent coughing fit, the side effect of practically living in a dusty mine.

"Who's there?!" came the voice of the un-named tall humanoid.

"EEK! WE'VE BEEN DISCOVERED! RUN!"

"Wait, Goldtooth! Come ba- oh, damn it." He had given up his calls for the smaller being, apparently by the name of Goldtooth, had already escaped earshot. "Who's there?" inquired the shadowy being again.

Rhodark considered actually answering for a moment, but his reply died away when his breath was stolen by another coughing fit. The being in the shadows used the coughing to locate the aging miner, sighing when he found him.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, some old geezer, out for a night's stroll? Looks like you took the wrong night to go snooping, you just broke up an agreement 5 years in the making... but you dont need to know about all that." Said the man, who Rhodark could now see was a tall human male, clad in all red and dark brown leather armor and a red linen face-mask. He carried a Gun in one hand and had an axe hanging from his belt.

"Well, Uh... no one needs to know I was here, right?" Said Rhodark, hoping to just get out of the man's company alive.

"Sorry old man, I'd love to let you go on home, but you might just've overheard abit more than my superiors would like, so I'm gonna have to kill ya." He lifted his gun up and pointed it at the man's face, point blank range, not even a dwarf would survive it.

"Oh, well, make it quick then." said the miner in a bored voice.

"That a boy." The man said pulling back on the trigger.

BOOM

**A/N: Cliffhanger! How do you like that? Huh? Huh? Will Rhodark Live? Will he die? Does anyone really care? The answers to all these questions and more in the next chapter of The Last Miner of Elwynn.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: H'okay party peoples, Here's chapter 3. I still dont have any idea just where this story is going, but I'm sure it's gonna be great.**

**Oh, and this one doesn't start with any epic dream sequence either! Hoorah!**

As the man pulled down on the trigger of his deadly blunderbuss, Rhodark made his move, swinging hs pick-ax in an upward arc at the blunderbuss in question, knocking the barrel just above Rhodark's head so the shot would soar just above him when it left the gun.

BOOM

The sound was deafening to Rhodark, probably damaging his hearing even further than it already was. If he were to turn around and look slightly up, he'd see a great bullet shaped hole blown into the tree behind him. But he had no time to survey the red-clad human's handy-work, instead he was trying to save his own life.

Swinging the large ax back toward his assailent, Rhodark caught the off-guard man in the head, though only with the blunt side of the instrument. The man fell to the ground with a gasp and a light thud as he made contact with the ground. Our hero, in all his nobility, decided to attempt to revive the fallen human.

"'EY! kick 'EY! "kick" YER 'WAKE?" Rhodark proceded to strike the man in the chest several times to no avail. Apparently the man would not wake up. Of course, this did not bother Rhodark too much, he coughed enough air inbetween his kicks to verify he was still alive.

Seeing that there was no real reason to be out in the open on a night as cold as this, Rhodark reteated back into his home, sitting down on his comfy chair, basking in the cozy fire, and drifted off into sleep, the events of the night scattering away from his feeble short-term memory like so many leaves in the wind.

_Smiling broadly, Rhodark, now Head Commander of All Alliance Military in Kalimidor, rode through the devastated Barrens, his legions of men, 100,000 in number, followed behind him, banners of their respective homelands showing proudly on their tunics. Truely this was the greatest reward for his efforts, to lead the charge into the heart of the Horde resistance, Durotaur._

_Upon reaching the once bustling trade-post of the Crossroads, Rhodark stopped and addressed his men. _

_"Men, you have all come a long way, but know that your journey is very nearly over, just down the road is our first objective, the Horde encampment of Razor Hill, which will fall with unparralled ease, then we march to the Troll vilage of Sen'Jin and finally double back and destroy Orgrimarr."_

_His men, impressed with his absolute military genious, began hollering and hooting praise for their commander. _

_"NOW, TO BATTLE!!" Said the glorious warrior, Rhodark Rheban as his steed charged deftly down the path toward glory, his throngs of men running in his wake._

_Halfway down the path the great stalwart hero of all men was interupted in his glorious charge by the deafening call of what could only be a...-_

"Cock-a-doodle-do!"

A chicken?

Yes, the waking world had ripped Rhodark away from his dreams once again. And just in time too, looking toward the sun, Rhodark noticied he was quite late for work, throwing on his mail armor and safety helmet, and picking up his dullened, chipped pick-ax, Rhodark headed out toward the Fargodeep Mines, running as fast as his 54 year old legs could take him.

Upon reaching the mines, he was greeted with his supervisor giving him a very scornful look and pointing him toward his station.

'_No verbal 'buse? Mus be mah luckeh day!' _Thought Rhodark, begining his mining in earnest.

After several hours of back breaking work with no material pay off, Rhodark hit something. Or rather, hit nothing. His pick swinging down in one hard thrust, he broke through the wall and found a small tunnel of some form dug just beneath his slab of wall, and, leaning his head in, Rhodark saw a faint glow down in the tunnel, almost like a candle and heard a very farmiliar shrill voice call out,

"They've broken through! Much...schedule..."

Another voice, almost identical to the first, began speaking, "What we do? ...charge?...Goldtooth tell us! "

The first replied, sounding quite uncertain, "Uhm...Humans said... not till next... but the've seen... uhm... okay CHARGE!!"

All of a sudden, the mine began to shudder as though someone had dynamited the supportbeam then unleashed an adult dragon to thrash about in it. Within seconds, hundreds of holes opened up in the walls and celing, and out from them came disgusting creatures.

Rhodark could only describe them as 'freaky-lookin' rat-things' which was not too far from the truth. Their heads seemed to be just elongated snouts with eyes attached to the top, their necks long and skinny, attached to a rotund body covered with dirty matted fur and red overalls, each and every one of them weilding a Pick-Ax of some form.

The other miners had no idea what was going on until it was too late, the kobolds catching them all off-guard and killing them in moments. Rhodark however began to retreat at the sound of the word charge.

Miraculously he made it out of the mines, moving at speeds that would make a cheeta blush. He was just about to make it over the hill separating the Fargodeep mine from the Stonefeild Farm when he felt something very very sharp in his back, turning around to see the intrusion, Rhodark identified that one of the beasts had apparently thrown a pick into his back. Still amazingly moving, Rhodark was just able to get within sight of the Stonefeilds and thus out of harms way from the 'freaky rat-things' before collapsing. They may've been dumb, but not dumb enough to reveal their presence to those that did not need to know yet.

So there Rhodark lay, slowly losing blood, and quickly losing consiousness. His last thought before slipping away into the darkness of unconsiousness was. _'Well, 'least I'm not a rat-lunch."_

**A/N: LE GASP! Kobold's invading Fargodeep mine? Bet no one saw that one coming. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here we go my good freinds, Chapter 4! Another actionless chapter, but interesting nonetheless. Introducing a new character here today. Thelma Stonefeild, AKA Grannma Stonefield. I orginally had her cast as a Love Interest for Rhodark, then decided against it at the sage advice of my good freind, Jack Daniels. Oh, and no more Chapters until I get a total of 5 reviews. KTHNXBAI**

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_Here it was, the final battle, the greatest of all conflicts. The beaten and battered Alliance Armies versus the last remaining Horde Resistance holed up in the throne room in the Valley of Wisdom, Orgrimmar. Rhodark, the decorated and vigliant leader of the Alliance Forces in Kalimador, being as noble as he was, offered one last chance for the people of Orgrimmar to give up and accept Human rule or to be vanquished._

_"CREATURES OF THE HORDE!" he called, his voice booming and intimidating in the otherwise silent late afternoon. "COME OUT WITH YOUR WEAPONS DISCARDED AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED!"_

_"NEVER WILL WE BOW TO YOU, HUMAN SCUM! THE HORDE WILL NEVER FALL!" came the grotesque voice of one of the horrible creatures deep within the fort. "THE WARCHEIF IS RIGHT, MON! FER THA HORDE EH!?" Another voice, this one oddly... Tropical? Probably one of those abominable Troll folk._

_"VERY WELL!" Rhodark called, lowering his banner, signalling for his men to charge blindly into the last hold of the Horde on the continent of Kalimidor._

_Within moments he heard the screams of pain and terror of hordic citzens echo from the great tent-like structure. Rhodark smiled, shooting off a bullet into a Tauren that was attempting to escape, catching her in the leg._

_Feeling another pressence close to him, Rhodark looked about frantically, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Suddenly, a great voice came down from the heavens and spoke to him with an elderly and maternal voice._

"Hey there, you awake yet sweety?"

Again, his dreams of conquest were interrupted, never mind that now, Rhodark had something to say to the elderly lady looking down at him.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Apparently he was in some minor pain.

"Oh, that must be your back acting up sweety, I tell you, the way ye've been thrashing and slashing about in the bed, I thought you might've accidently choked in your sleep. Now then, lets get you some food then, eh?" said the woman who had been so rude to derail Rhodark's moment of glory. Upon further inspection, he saw that the woman was a human, probably in her early sixties or late fifties. He hair gray and her face etched with wrinkles. That is not to say she had aged badly. Her face had actually retained its youth fairly well considering her age.

"Yeh, food, tha's good... wait..." said a still groggy Rhodark, rubbing his face with his hand in a futile attempt to clear his foggy mind. "...who're you and w're in t'e 'ell am I?"

"Oh, well sir, you must excuse my manners. I'm Thelma Stonefield, but most just call me Grannma. You're in the my house in Elwynn Forest, the Stonefield Farmstead to be exact. We found you out on the crest of the hill leading toward Fargodeep. But enough talk, you need some food, eh? Get yer strengh up." With that she walked away from Rhodark and proceeded out of the room, and Rhodark heard her going down stairs, then nothing.

Rhodark just lay on the bed, enjoying the comfort it's soft matress and downy comforter offered him, as he was honestly terrified to move his back, the pain from waking up still lingering in his extremities. Suddenly the events of his most recent - and probably last - trip to Fargodeep mine resounded in his mind. Peering into the darkness of the Kobold under-tunnels, fleeing at the first sign of danger, hearing the screams of his fellow miners as the myriad Kobold engulfed them. Only one though passed his mind at this point.

_'Serves 'em right, bloody pricks.'_

Contrary to what most would assume, Rhodark felt no sorrow and very little guilt for the felling of his partners in buisness. Sure, he ran away without warning them, did that make him at fault for their demise? Not in his eyes. Their too weak to beat off a few dirty rat-things, that's their problem. Though one thing did seem out of place in this whole affair.

"'OY! WOMAN! W'eres mah pick!?"

For two excruciating minutes he awaited an answer from down below. He then heard the woman accending the steps, very very slowly. Upon her eventual arival upon the threshold of his door, Rhodark repeated his command.

"OY! WOMAN! W'ERS MAH PICK!?"

"Now, now calm down son, you dont wanna get too worked up now." said his elderly caretaker. "Now drink some soup, it's good for you." She then took a spoon out of the bowl she came up with and moved it towards his mouth. Well, moved was the wrong word, more forced it into his mouth.

With no way to defend himself Rhodark took the soup and, about a quarter of an hour later, finally got a word in after the soup bowl was finally empty.

"ANER THE KESTION WOMAN!" Demanded Rhodark with a ferocity he had not used in a very long time.

"What question?"

"W'ERES MAH DAMNED PICK?!" He screamed almost directly into her ear.

"Hm? Pick? You mean the thing that was lodged into your back? We tossed that in the basement, though if you want it I can get if for you."

Rhodark then let out a howl of pain as he had lurched to attack the woman, his back still in pain. Then he came to terms with it, he had left his most prized possesion in the mines that were now infested with the infernal rat-things. There was only one thing to do.

He would have to go after it.

**A/N: ACTION! SUSPENCE! AXE-LOVING! What lies ahead for our intrepid hero? Success? Victory? Failure? Death? Who knows? Who cares? The answers to all these questions and more in the next chapter of... The Last Miner of Elwynn!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N : And so we finally get to a big conflict, the battle of the century, the fight of the millenium, In one corner, we have Rhodark Rheban, 129 lbs. 59 yrs old. In the other corner! We have a Kobold horde, Weighing in at a total of 1.2 tons, and an average age of 15! LETS GET READY TO... mine? This is one of my longer chapters, hence the length of time between updates.**

One week had passed since Rhodark solemnly pleged to himself that he would get his beloved Pick back at any cost. And it had been one hour since he had attempted movement again. The pain was all but gone, replaced with a great soreness from lack of use. He had been stretching his muscles and poping his joints for the past hour in preparation for the infiltration to come. He was stretching his left tricep, which was curiously sorer than most of the rest of his body -save for his back-, when his caretaker returned to the room.

"Oh, Rho, do you really need to go after such a silly little thing as a pick-ax? It's not like it was even a heirloom or anything, and it certainly has no material value, just give it up." She said, almost pleadingly.

"Yeh wouldn't 'stand, woman, i's gots senetemenetail valya ter me, me first possession I bought on me own yeh see? It's like eh good fri'nd, yeh would nah leave a pal o' yers in a mine full o' rat-thingies would ya?" He said in a bored tone, wincing as he attempted to stretch his arm more.

"Well that's still not any reason to go out and get yerself killed!" said the woman, a sudden rage in her voice.

"What buisness is it of yers, woman? None, thats wut." said our intrepid hero, still attempting to dislodge the stubborn kink in his bicep, not much caring for the old lady's rambling.

Thelma gave a grunt of .frustation and dissapointment, then stormed away, leaving Rhodark absently rubbing his arm, figuring up a plan to retrive his axe and make it out of the invaded Fargodeep Mine alive.

After another half-hour of easing his sore muscles, Rhodark proceeded down stairs to find the house empty, which was fine with him, that old woman was starting to grate on his last nerve. Picking up the ax which happened to be lodged into his back just a week ago, throwing on his chain-mail(which had a notice able hole in the lower back of the vest), and strapping on his boots, Rhodark proceeded out the door, and toward his destiny.

Within moments the aged miner of Elwynn Forest was within eyesight of his former place of buisness. Eyeing the place, Rhodark noticed that outwardly the site showed no signs of invasion, the Kobolds had been very keen to keep their presence unknown for as long as possible.

After proceeding down the hill leading into the mine, Rhodark had a choice to make, either go in through the front entrance guns a-blazin' or go in through the side and attempt a sneak attack.

The choice should be obvious.

"RGAH!!!" Bellowed the enraged miner, flying into a fury unparalleled by anything the Forest of Elwynn had ever seen. He entered the cavern at a sprint, blindly swinging the bloody pick-ax to and fro as he dove deeper into the mines, it wasn't until he hit a wall that he actually opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

The mine had not changed at all really, the only noticable diffrence was the lack of the light tink-tink of the picks hitting the cavern walls. That and the lack of miners. Getting his bearings, Rhodark realized that he was quite close to his station, turning about, he saw it. Leaning against the wall, its dullened blade slightly glowing in the dull light of the lantern system that illuminated the mine, its worn and warped handle showing the unenviable effects of years of clumsy and ineffective use.

He ran toward the object of his obsession with the speed and ferocity of a cheetah pouncing on it's prey. He was but inches away from his ax, when he heard a voice he'd never hoped to hear again.

"It only one human! Who said it was a raid?!" a high shrill voice seemed to come from everywhere at once "GET HIM!"

Suddenly the walls began to shake, the walls and ceiling began their now familiar break-away as the Koboldian army cascaded through their tiny sub-tunnels and began to slowly close in on the old aging man.

Rhodark, who was not one to go down with out a fight, began to swing the two picks around like a madman, blindly hitting anything in his wake.

The Kobolds, an extremely cowardly race by nature, ran at the sight of Rhodark's strained, deranged, desparate countenance. "MEEK! HE GONE INSANE! HE TAKE CANDLES! RUN!" cried one of the warped rat-like beings, one who was not their leader, though his order was still heeded by most all the other Kobolds in the mine, and within moments the mine was all but empty.

Noticing the silence and realizing that he was not dead, Rhodark opened his eyes. The lack of Kobolds or blood bewildered him, though he did not decide to stick around to find out what had happened. Gripping his twin mining picks in hand, Rhodark left the mine as quickly as his elderly legs and blackened lungs would allow him, not stopping until he was inside his own cozy little cottage.

Setting down on his little chair, Rhodark drifted off into a well deserved dream, the threat of anyone coming to finish him off after his invasion not even registering in his mind.

_There he was, the "Great Warchief" the "Most Honorable of Orcs" Thrall, the leader of all Horde forces on this continent, grovelling at his feet. _

_"Rhoda'k, powerful leader, dont kill Thrall, Thrall not want die."_

_Rhodark was disgusted by the level of incompetentcy in the Hordic Leadership. To have a leader with almost no understanding of spoken language? It was a testament to the rest of the Horde and their utter lack of intelligence._

_"Why should I not kill you, you spoony bard?" said Rhodark in a menacing tone, barely holding back the desire to spit on the trembling pile of worthlessness groveling at his feet._

_"I tell you how to get Forsaken town! Yes, yes! I tell you how you enter big Zombie capital with no hurt! Yes yes!"_

_"Tell me what you know..." said Rhodark, smiling broadly, "... and you _might_ be spared."_

Suddenly, Rhodark was driven from glory by an alien noise._  
_

BOOM

**A/N: ANOTHER CLIFF HANGER! WHAT YA GONNA DO BOUT IT!? In all seriousness, I apologize for the lack of updates recently, 10th grade takes up a lot of time, people.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **Chapter 6 is here, I am typing this at 1 in the morning high on Sprite and Dr. Pepper, so forgive me if it makes no sense.**

In the shadows of the wood of Elwynn, a small coalition of evil was gathering, conspiring to overthrow the shaky balance of peace that had taken a hold upon the region. The group was composed of two humans, both male, a tall, wide dwarf male, and a small, hunched over dog-like humanoid, commonly referred to as a Gnoll, female. They were gathered around a blazing fire, their presence shrouded from the near by Goldshire by the steeply sloping cliff they were hugged against. All were dressed in red fabrics.

"Okay", said one of the humans, a shorter, weaker looking one with a squeaky voice, "Progress report, Darlans, you first" he said, very professional and to the point.

"Our alliance with the kobolds is firm, and the Fargodeep Mines are ours." Said the other human, taller and much deeper voiced than his counter-part, with a smug smile on his face.

"WHAT?! The Fargodeep invasion was not scheduled until next week!" shouted the squatty human, his voice sounding like a chew toy.

"Well, sir, one of the miners broke through the wall and discovered the under-tunnels early. The Kobolds panicked and attacked, The slaughter was clean and unnoticed. Only one miner escaped." said the taller man, still looking confident.

" ….This is very very bad Darlans, very bad indeed. We will continue to discuss this later." said the squatty man calmly, moving on in the proceedings, leaving Darlans looking terrified. "DownHammer, progress report, now."

"Ah yes'sir boss, mah men have finished their tunnelin' from Deeprun to tha Stockades, and we're on schedule to free the prisoners." said the dwarf, emphasizing the words _'on schedule'_ and smiling slyly at the tall human who was now fidgetting with nervousness.

"Good, good, on ward. Garand, Progress report, now." said the tinier human turning to the furriest of the group.

"The Riverpaw Tribe has agreed to lead the first Gnoll invasion into Elwynn Forest. They're led by a very smart and very headstrong leader who calls himself 'hogger', they seem to have the potential to be very effective." said the Gnoll in amazingly perfect Common.

"Hmm…. Yes, Riverpaws, they should do nicely…. Do they have any idea of their connection to the Defias?"

"No sir, the only one with any idea is Hogger, and all he knows is that some outside force is supplying him. The Brotherhood is never mentioned by name."

"Good, good." said the shorter human who seemed to be the leader, looking fairly pleased with himself. "and back to you, ", he said, glaring daggers at the tall, dark haired human who had been slowly inching away from the group. "You know the price for failure to the Brotherhood."

"No, no, no…. please, it was not my fault! It was the Kobolds! They panicked! Punish them!" said the man, who fell down halfway through his plea after tripping over a root in his attempts to back away.

"I do not enjoy this, but it must be done." said the squatty human, still threatening even with his voice squeaking every other syllable. Drawing a small throwing axe from his red linen vest, he looked down upon the man. "Left or right?"

Sighing, the human on the ground decided to accept his punishment like a man. "R-right, sir, he said, thrusting his right arm up into the air."

The leader of the little pack gripped the tall human's thin wrist and reared the axe back, but was suddenly interrupted by an alarming sound.

"AAAAHHHH! HE TRY TAKE CANDLE! HE TRY TAKE CANDLE! HELP, SCARY MAN ATTACK MINE!"

A small hunched humanoid in blue overalls was running at top speed toward the group, his fur and whiskers all frazzled and out of place. His ratlike head bobbing up and down in time with his steps. Upon reaching the small grouping he recounted a the longwinded tale of the raid on Fargodeep in record time, not much noticing the state of business the red-clad group was in.

"Eh, what?" said the small human, his axe now sitting at his side, the thought of cutting off Darlans' hand off gone, his mind not quite registering the story on the first run through. After a few moments of running the high pitched broken Common through his head it clicked. "Oh. My. God." Dropping the still trembling man's hand to the ground, the squatty human stood as tall as his body would allow and bellowed, "Troops, Goldtooth, we've got an old man to kill, move out."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Why should I not kill you, you spoony bard?" said Rhodark in a menacing tone, barely holding back the desire to spit on the trembling pile of worthlessness groveling at his feet._

_"I tell you how to get Forsaken town! Yes, yes! I tell you how you enter big Zombie capital with no hurt! Yes yes!"_

_"Tell me what you know..." said Rhodark, smiling broadly, "... and you _might_ be spared."_

Suddenly, Rhodark was driven from glory by an alien noise.

BOOM

Outside our intrepid hero's home, the tallest of the coalition of evil had just fired off a large bullet into the wall of the aging miner's home. Sadly the shot did not penetrate the wall; had it, Rhodark Rheban the Miner would now be known as Rhodark Rheban the Headless.

Shooting up, Rhodark immediately hit the floor out of instinct. His hand groping on the floor to attempt to find one of his dual pick-axes.

Outside, after the total failure of Darlans' first attempt to take down the miner, the group of Defias Ringleaders had decided upon a more indirect approach. The feminine Gnoll pushed her hands together and flaming energy began to swell from her finger tips, then the energy grew into a great ball of flame in her palms which she released at the small cottage, the residence taking to flame immediately.

Having already picked up his personal pick and pushed himself up off the ground, it did not take Rhodark long to notice the heat building up in his immediate vicinity, then, through the one window in his house, he saw the flames licking their way up the side of his home, and knew it wouldn't be long until they reached the inside. He burst out of the front door in a run, attempting to get away from the growing inferno as quickly as possible.

The instigators, who'd been attacking from the rear and did not notice the old man's escape, were gloating about their victory over this final thorn in their side, the collapsing house being all the proof they needed of Rhodark's demise. They bolted as soon as the main support beam collapsed and the house imploded in on itself. Having a group of Defias Brotherhood agents present at the scene of an arson would not go down well in with VanCleef down in the Deadmines.

Rhodark, looking behind him without stopping his forward movement, saw his house burn to the ground. He had not had the place long, and had nothing of any real value in it, but it was a warm place to stay, thus was a slight annoyance to him.

"Aaw, fuck!" Yelled Rhodark, his legs continuing to carry him forward all the way to Stormwind.

**A/N: And so there it is, the 6th chapter in The Last Miner of Elwynn. I am quite happy with this one actually, but you can take it as you will, my only personal nag with it is it's stark contrast of tone in respect to the rest of the story. This one seems a bit serious where the rest were quite humorous…. Ah well, there it is anyway.**


	7. Chapter 7

-1Upon reaching the grand city of stormwind, Rhodark went straight to the only place left that would take him, the Pig and Whistle tavern.

Entering the grand old building, the scent of beer and body odor greeted our intrepid hero's nose like a warm embrace, Rhodark was home. Walking toward the bar, he was pleased to see that his friend, Jacob Fordran, was on the job tonight. Rhodark took a seat, and waited for his pal to finish flirting with the lovely lady two stools down and notice him.

A few moments of conversation and a slap to the face later, Jacob was done speaking to that particular customer and looked toward the elderly man sitting at the bar, a smile curling at his lips.

"Well, well, well, Rhodark Rheban…. The scum of Azeroth, how've you been man?" he cried, putting out his hand toward the miner.

"Eh…. 'ave been alrigh' I s'pose." said Rhodark neutrally.

"How's the mining gig going, eh? Strike any diamonds down there in the rough?" said Jacob with a slight chuckle

"Act'lly…. I done got fir'd jus' about a week 'go. . . . You got's any alch' 'round 'ere?"

"Uh… yeah…. It is a bar, ya know." said the bartender, grabbing a bottle of Dwarven Stout and a glass from under the bar. "Now what's this about getting fired?"

"Eh, tha boss said I was t' old to contin'eh ta work down in tha' mines…. But I wouldn't really want to go back down inte the mines an'eh more me'self." Said Rhodark taking a large gulp of his beverage.

"Why'd you say that, Rho?" Said Jacob, pouring a glass of Piont Noir for another customer who had sat down next to Rhodark.

"Well…. There's the freak'eh little rat-things tha' took it over fer starters."

"Wait." now the who had sat down next to our hero was speaking. "Freaky Rat-things invading a mine? You wouldn't be talking about Kobolds would you?" his speech was proper and his accent refined, his clothes were clean and personally tailored, his glasses looked to be gold-rimmed. The man was probably a noble of some form, not the kind you usually get in Old Town.

"YEAH! That's what the bigger one said when he was talking to that red-clad bloke." said Rhodark, a good buzz going through him from his drink of choice, which was now empty.

"Red-clad…. What were these two talking about exactly?" the bespectacled man demanded excitedly.

"Uh… some kinda alliance between the little freaky rat-bolds or whatever you called them and some kinda Brotherhood, I dunno." said Rhodark, slamming his glass on the table to signal Jacob to give him a refill.

"And the invasion, when was it?" The man was now leaning in toward Rhodark, much to close for comfort.

"Alri'gh, mister, yer startin' te freak meh the hell out, kay? Now if yeh don' mind, I'd like it if ye'd back away alrigh?" said the graying miner, lightly pushing the nobleman away from him with one arm.

"Oh, right, please forgive my rudeness. I am Rupert Ogsden, Alliance Intelligence. I've been trying for years to prove that this crisis was true! You must come with me to the keep at once!" said the man, grabbing a hold of Rhodark's arm and attempting to leave the bar, quite surprised when the man did not stand up along with him. "Well, come now, we MUST inform the king!"

"Uh, sir, I dun much like yer tone, I don't take no orders from no body, not no way, not no how…. That and ah am quite tir'd an' jus' a we bit drunk. So yer gonna leave here and come back tomorrow when I've got me some shut eye, okay mister big-shot?" said Rhodark, gripping his ax and glaring daggers into the man, daring him to attempt to persuade him otherwise.

"Oh, right, well…. Um I suppose that I shall retrive you tomorrow then, eh? Right…. Well, I'm off to the keep to arrange our meeting then, good day sir!" the man then turned on heel and left the bar, walking as quickly as possible to still be called a walk.

Jacob, who had been attending to his scarce few other customers, spoke up. "I heard you tell him you're staying here… why not go and stay at yer own home, eh?"

"Oh, tha' ole' place, it burned down 'bout an hour ago."

"Burned down? Why exactly?"

"I dunno, I was sleepin', havin' one o' those realla' nice dreams, the kind ah told yeh 'bout."

"The one's involving Lady Prestor?"

"Wha'?! No, no, the other one's the ones about the armies and such…." said Rhodark, blushing as much as his old skin would allow. "Anyway, back on subject. I was sleepin' there an' then I hears this gunshot' like sound righ' beside me, an' the whole place goes up in flames! I high-tailed it out of there, and came down 'ere."

"Rhodark, you are a plumb idiot, you know that?" said Jacob, flabbergasted.

"Why'd'ya say tha'?"

"When your house burns down you go to the **Guard** not the frickin bar! What's wrong with you, man? You need to take shit more seriously!"

"Well, I didn' th'nk 'twas a probl'm to go to the guard 'bout, they've got better things to be doin' then worryin' 'bout an old man's house burnin' down…. I think I'm gonna hit the hay now, I'll be down in the cellar if yeh need meh." said Rhodark, pushing himself up off the stool and away from the bar, walking away toward the lower level of the building.

"Whatever, man….." Jacob then went back to tending bar, acting as if Rhodark had never been there. But after a few minutes he had to voice one concern. Walking back toward the kitchen, Jacob called down the stairs leading into the booze cellar, "HEY, DON'T GO DRINKIN ALL MY PRODUCT YEH CRAZY OLD MAN!"

Rhodark paid him no mind on account of his alcohol induced coma.

_Valiant and Proud, the alliance army marched through the lands claimed by undeath , led by the greatest war hero the alliance had ever known, Rhodark Rheban. All their conquests had led up to this final conflict, the reclaiming of Lorderon from the savage zombies that had taken it after the plauge. Sure, the undead were once humans themselves, but now they were an abomination. And abominations had to be put down. _

_Following the bumbling Orcish leader's directions, Rhodark found the cavern the bumbling green beast had described. Entering it's dark depths, Rhodark felt a rush of excitement as he realized that his dream was finally at hand, he would finally end the scourge of the Horde all over the world, and he would be remembered all across the globe as a hero, the greatest hero of all. Rhodark, the Almighty._

_He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice when one of his more forward scouts called out, on the second call he replied._

"_YES!? WHAT DO YOU SEE?" He called, his voice deep and commanding._

"_Shhh… quiet master, this tunnel here leads directly into what appears to be the Apothecarium, very very close to the Dark Lady's chamber. It's not wide enough for us to get through though…."_

"_Hmm…. Mekkatorque , get over here. The Gnomish king strode up toward Rhodark, astride his mechanical steed._

"_Yessir? You need me to blow this hole open for ya?" Said the pink-haired munchkin, smiling._

"_You got it, I want that hole wide enough for ten plus me. You've got 3 minutes."_

_It did not take the small engineer even 1 to set the charge and tell all those within the vicinity to get the hell out of there. In another 2 the massive mine he laid down exploded, and Rhodark got his wish, and his men poured out of the hole taking all the twisted creatures inside the town by surprise._

**A/N: And there it is, chapter 7! Rhodark has a friend! Rhodark has an appointment with the king! I wrote this at 2 in the morning so I have no clue if it made any sense at all! Seriously, if it didn't, tell me and I'll rewrite it.**


	8. Chapter 10

**[bA/N: Sadly, this chapter will not feature a dream sequence for the first time in... ever. I am sorry, but I just could not get our good friend Rhodark to fall asleep in here with out it feeling forced. But next time I guarantee there will be epic dream action... **

**...and by that I mean Dream-Rhodark is totally going to get it on with sylvannas...**

**... I'm kidding...**

**... or AM i?[/b**

Upon reaching the grand city of Stormwind again after his hour-long fun-filled jaunt into the forests of Elwynn, our intrepid hero, Rhodark Rehban, immediately proceeded toward the most important place he could possibly be at that point...

... The Pig and Whistle pub.

Reaching his desired destination, the pleasant smell of freshly brew and even fresher blood flooding his nostrils, Rhodark quickly forgot his purpose in the Alliance capital city and approached the bar. Halfway there he noticed his good friend Jacob's shift had ended, and his pace to the bar became a bit less jolly.

He found his stool and gave out a sharp whistle to get the current Barkeep's attention. Waiting for the attention to be gotten, he looked about the room. And to his surprise a very familiar face was sitting just two stools down from him, grinning like a madman and downing what seemed to be not his first beer.l

"OY! 'S yeh! Tha creepeh guy...Randalf, were it?" Inquired Rhodark, entirely too loudly.

"Eh?" Said Rupert Ogsden turning to see his inquirer, his face lighting up upon doing so.

"Rhodark, my good man!" Ogsden cheered moving over a seat and draping his arm around Rhodark, obviously intoxicated. "You're the talk o' the Keep, you are! Fordragon sent out a scout after you left and within the hour you're story proved to be true! He gave me a promotion and told me to locate you for your reward!!" revealed the intoxicated Nobleman, slopilly taking another swig of his ale.

"Eh... yeah tha's nice and all buh... please don' touch meh, eh?" Said Rhodark, gripping the man's arm and removing from his shoulder. "Oh!" cried Rhodark, suddenly remembering his errand in the city. "Ah' need ter talk wid tha' Mr. Ferdrognan p'rson 'gain. 'ah got's so'more infermation on those red-clad loons what took o'vr tha' mines."

Rupert just stared at Rhodark blankly for several seconds, letting the revelation sink into his blurred mind. After a time, it finally seemed to dawn on him what the unintelligble man had said, or atleast the main gist of it. "More infromat-hic-mation? Well what're we waitin' for? Le's get goin' ter the Keep eh? Can't keep a promotion waiting, can we?!" With that Rupert jumped up from the barr and took off into a sprint out of the bar, jostling 12 patrons, knocking over 20 chairs, and smashing into a wall a total of 6 times in the process.

Rhodark then vowed to never get drunk again.

Within moments they were there, and after a very long -and very hillarious- identifcation process, they were inside, leaving two very elated guards gigling and chortling loudly.

Halfway up the marble-staircase of uber-bigness, Rhodark heard a loud thud next to him followed by light snoring. It registered to the aging miner that it was probably Rupert passed out drunk on the floor, though it did NOT register to him to help the poor nobleman up off the cold floor, the man was creepy dead-weight and a guard would get him momentarily anyway.

Higher and higher he climbed, stopping for breath 12 times along the way, untill finally Rhodark came to the large circular room where the grand and true King Varian Wynn, Leader of the Alliance, normally stood, figureheading the great Allaiance with his stern and fair countanance. Now no one stood there, apparently the king was still on his trip to some undisclosed location.

"Well well, If it isn't the man of the hour, Rhodark Rheban!?" Came a cry from the left of our hero. Highlord Fordragon was in great spirits, his normally stern and somber facial features replaced with a joyus smile and a bounce in his step.

"Eh? O' yeah. 'Ow yeh doin' mi'ter Ferdinand?" Said Rhodark, turning to face the man addressing him. He then snapped his fingers and said, "OY! Ah jus' reme'bered ah ned ter tell yeh, tha' red-dudes done bought up tha Brackwell feilds... 'er wha's left o' them."

"Say what?! This is horrible, Rhodark, awful... but good that you have gotten us this information so quickly." Fordragon then began to contemplate something. "Hmm...JOHNSON!"

A small, timid looking lad ran up to the Highlord, almost trembling in his presence. "YES SIR!" He said, his arm snapping to a salute and his body locking into attention.

"Go fetch one of the SI:7 boys and tell them to scout the pumpkin patch for anything suspicious, dismissed." Said Fordragon, waving the boy off. "Now, Rhodark... about that payment, what with everything you told me before and this new information... how's 20 pounds of gold sound?"

Rhodark's jaw fell to the floor. 20 **pounds** of **GOLD**? That alone was more than all the wealth he accumulated in 12 years in the mines. "TWENTY POUNDS?!?!?!? HELLS YEA' I WAN' THA'!!" Screamed Rhodark, so loud he probably woke up a few napping Troggs down in Dun Morough.

"Now now, hush up, half the city probably heard you there you silly man. I'll have the gold sent down to your place of residence and... oh, wait... you dont live anywhere now do you?" said Fordragon, now deep in thought.

"Nerp, nerp, ah've kinda been sleepin' down in tha' cellar o' tha' Pig 'n' Whittle Inn. "

"Hmm... No, no, no. A great asset to the alliance like your self cant be put up in such conditions... Rhodark, how would you like a job with Alliance Intelligence?"

"Uh... a Jeorb? Ah' ain't qualified ter do much fer yeh mister Ferdinand." Said Rhodark, a bit surprised by the offer.

"Indeed, you are not educated enough to be a researcher nor eloquent enough to be a diplomat, but you have an extraordinary knack for being in the exact right place at the exact wrong time, the most important quality of a field agent. I belive you would make a very effective spy against the Defias."

Suddenly Rhodark felt a surge of pride, not even noticing the insults to his intelligence and eloquence. "Well, tha' may well beh true Lord Fernando, buh ah ain't so good at all tha' sneakin' an' stealthin' tha' spies do."

"Yes, yes, but I don't want you to be a normal cloak-and-dagger type spy. I have a diffrent plan for you. I want you to just wander about, live your life, do whatever it is that you do, and whenever you see something out of the ordinary pretaining to the - as you call them- the 'red-dudes'."

It took the aging miner a while to grasp what the well-armored human commander was telling him. After several moments it hit him like a ton of bricks... bricks that happened to be covered in dollar signs. "So yer tellin' me that yall want's ter give meh a spy's sallary... fer not'in?"

"Yes, that is **exactly **what I am saying." Lord Fordragon said with a broad smile, he knew that he had sold the miner before he had opened his mouth.

"I'll take it!" was Rhodark's answer.

"Good, good, come back here tommorow morning at O' Eight Hundred sharp, and we will settle everything about your new position. Oh, and here's some money for food and drink tonight." The Alliance Highlord then removed a small handful of silvery coins from a pouch on his belt and handed it to the miner. "Good day to ya then Rhodark."

"Uh... thank yeh, mister Fransisco." Stated Rhodark still in shock over his sudden good luck.

Rhodark then ran off down the stairs, suddenly not challenged by the enduring task of scaleing the massive structcure, his sudden elation making his adreline ducts flood like a mug in a dwarven tavern. He would definitely be back for that appointment at o Eight Hundred hours... if only he knew what that meant. But for now... there was alchohol to be drank and pie to be eaten.

[b

**A/N:**

**FINALLY!! I am sorry for the lack of updates, but with the recent realease of Halo 3 (greatest game ever), I was sadly unable to much care about writing for a week, but, now that that craziness is over with, I will continute to update more regularly... I hope.[/b**


	9. Chapter 8

-1**A/N: And so here we are, the eighth chapter of my epic novel, the Last Miner of Rhodark. This one I'm writing in the light of day, so maybe I'll actually be bad, heh.**

* * *

_As the Grand Army of the Alliance plundered the last stronghold of their enemy, their grand and virtuous leader, Rhodark Rheban, the Untouchable, was hanging back, basking in the glorious slaughter before him. He was about to join the fray when a voice called to him._

* * *

"Excuse me sir?"

* * *

_The voice seemed to come from above, but there was no such thing above him. He reasoned that the Light had finally decided to acknowledge him and his contributions with access to it's powers. He called back. "Yes oh grand being from beyond! I am ready to accept your gift!"_

* * *

"Hum, sir, please wake up, we have an appointment in the keep."

* * *

"_Wake up? Keep? Oh, you require me to release myself from the physical plain so I can join you in your extra planar temple! Of course." Rhodark then began to focus on reliving himself of his physical body, not quite knowing what exactly what he was to be doing._

* * *

"Oh well, I suppose it must be this way."

Rhodark felt a sharp jab in his gut and was dragged out of his fantasy land and into the real world of Azeroth.

"Eh? Wha's goin on?" Rhodark looked up from the cellar floor and saw a semi-familiar face above him. "Uh…. Creepy guy? What're yeh doin 'ere? Ye'h crazy er som'tin? Comin' down here, makin' meh think I'm becomin' a palladin, then kicken meh in tha gut… wahs yer problem?!" Said Rhodark, either seriously agitated, seriously hung-over, or both.

"Uhm… Palladin? I don't really know what you're talking about sire, but we simply MUST get to the castle A.S.A.P!" Cried the bespectacled man now dubbed 'Creepy Guy', extending a hand out to lift the aging, hungover, down-on-his-luck, miner back to his feet.

"Eh? Tha Keep? Oh… that's right…. Uh… I guess we's got's ta go, eh?" said Rhodark, taking the man's hand and getting up, being sure to grab his ax on the way.

Leaving the tavern, Rhodark turned to his companion, "So, uh…. D'you gots a name, creep?"

Flabbergasted, the young, proper, man began to speak,"Why, I've told you my name! I am Rupert Ogsden, Alliance intel-"

Only to be cut-off by the aged miner. "Alrigh' , I jus' needed tha name, save te titles for t'e ladies."

"Uhm… right… well, if you follow me this way, we will be in the Keep within the minute!" said Rupert, turning on his heel and briskly walking toward the Canals north of Old Town.

They did indeed reach the Keep fairly quickly. And upon reaching said Keep, the ever-so-polite Guardsmen greeted them with the traditional Stormwind Salutation. "No one enters without proper Identification, No exceptions, ever."

"Oh, right, uhm…" the small robed man next to Rhodark began to shuffle through his many pockets. Nearly five full minutes later, he finally removed a small, round rune-inscribed stone from one of his myriad pockets. Holding it up to the guard he said in an irritable voice. "I am Rupert Ogsden, Alliance Intelligence, I have level A6 clearance." At the end of his last syllable, the orange paint that made up the rune glowed green, and the two Guardsmen stepped aside, allowing Rupert to pass, but the men stepped back into place guarding the entrance before our hero could step through.

"No, no, boy's He's with me." said Rupert, never even halting his movement up the steps toward their destiny.

The men stepped aside and allowed Rhodark passage.

Passing an average-height man with flaming red hair, slightly blued skin, and a full set of heavy mail armor engraved with strange runes reading a very long book labeled _A_ _Guide to the Mastery of Dungeons_, the bespectacled man said to Rhodark, "That's Rhober Helhexhoi, the first human to EVER master the Elements like the Orcs and Tauren, truly the first Alliance shaman! His prowess with the blade and the spell is near unmatched world-round. Though he does hold an intense fear of large, multi-colored birds and all kinds of Chameleons….. No one ever asks why."

Continuing down the obscenely long corridor, Rupert pointed out several other prestigious humans. Rhodark didn't pay him much mind, and was really beginning to lose his breath climbing this near endless staircase.

It was when Rhodark was nearest to collapse that his companion finally uttered a phrase that interested him. "Okay, We're here."

"Th'nk tha Ligh'…. you go an' uh… confirm the appointmen' or something', I've gotta res' fer a mo',eh?" said Rhodark, panting and sitting down against a wall of the long hall way.

"Uhm… right! Of course, very astute, Mr. Rheban I will be back to retrieve you shortly." with a curt nod, the man turned about and walked into the extremely large round room past the hallway and into one of the sealed giant double doors behind it.

After several minutes of waiting, Rupert returned with a tall, brown haired man, clad in the most intricate and sturdy armor he'd ever seen. The man held a regal presence about himself, a born leader. But the lack of a crown showed that he was no king.

"Rhodark, it seems that King Wynn is out on some form of classified task, but his second in command, Highlord Fordragon has agreed to meet with us and act upon our information in the king's absence. If you would please follow us back into the conference room. We can begin.

Rhodark entered the room he was directed to and sat down in one of the amazingly comfortable armchairs that surrounded the oval table in the middle of the room. He took in the room around him. The walls were wooden and bare, and several lanterns hung from the ceiling, lighting every part of the room.

Fordragon sat in the chair opposite Rhodark and asked him to tell his entire story from beginning to end, with intence attention to detail.

Rhodark complied, starting with being fired all the way up to his house burning down adding in every detail his feeble mind could remember.

"So you're telling me that you're the only miner of Fargodeep left alive?" asked the Highlord incredulously .

"Well… yeh, I am, 's far as I knows." said Rhodark in a bored tone.

"Hmm… and you're sure that the Kobold was talking to someone from the Defias Brotherhood?"

"Nah, Ah nev'r said tha'. All I know is tha' som' kinda 'broth'rhood' was mention'd, and tha' tha guy what shot at meh was wearin' red."

The Highlord rubbed his temples gave a long, drawn out sigh. "Ugh, Do…. Do you absolutely _have_ to speak like that, sir?" he asked, sounding quite annoyed.

"Like wha'? I ain't speakin' no diff'ern then ah've ev'r spoken 'fore." said Rhodark, slightly confounded.

"Just… never mind. Okay, Rupert, so you have a witness to finally back up your theories, I'll run this by the kings advisors and we'll decide if you've got a case for us to take action." said Highlord Fordragon, getting up from the table and walking toward the door.

"Thank you, sir, thank- wait, wouldn't you need to speak to the king to take any military action?"

Stopping at the door, the Regent of Stormwind addressed Rupert without turning to look at him. "The King will be out for an extended period of time and I am to act in his stead for the time being, do not concern yourself with such things." With that he opened the massive door and exited the room.

"Well now, everything seems to be in order now doesn't it?" Said Rupert, a massive smile on his face.

"Uh, kin ah go now? This formel atmo-atmos- this place i'nt workin' fer me."

"Hmm? OH, yes, of course, you are free to go Mr. Rheban, Thank you so much." said Rupert moving doward our hero and shaking his hand forcibly .

"Uh, righ', I'm gon' git outta 'ere now." said Rhodark, grabbing his pick from the table, exiting the room, and beginning his decent down the giant staircase.

Upon reaching the main square in the Trade District of Stormwind, Rhodark noticed something peculiar about his person.

_"MRGLLGRGL"_

His body was making strange noises, and Rhodark realized that they could only mean one thing. He was very very hungry, and that situation needed to rectify itself very very quickly. Rhodark pondered where he could go to get some food without any money. The Pig and Whistle dealt in just alchohol, and he couldn't possibly ask Jacob for any money, he still owed the bartender several silver from his amazingly long tab. Then it came to him. His good friend Jonathan Brackwell would surely give him some of that world famous Brackwell Pumpkin Pie.

Hefting the head of his pick-ax over his shoulder, Rhodark Rheban began his hike to the Brackwell Pumpkin Patch.

**A/N: There we go. Chapter 8. I finally have an Idea of where this will be going. **

**Oh, and one note, that Rhober Helhexoi character? He's a cameo of a friend of mine. He probably won't be in any other chapter. I just put him there to sate his ego.**


	10. Chapter 9

Upon reaching Goldshire, Rhodark Rheban was becoming quite ravenous. His pace quickened, his stomach now jumping about in his stomach like a Murloc in a burlap sack (which he had seen before- but that's a story for another time). Five full minutes passed with Rhodark going at his Old Man's Jog, finally the patch was within sight. Unloading his proverbial afterburners, Rhodark sprinted directly toward the farmhouse, slamming through the slightly ajar door, and into the house of his food-providing friend, in which a quite interesting meeting was taking place.

-------------------2 Minutes Earlier---------------------

Darlans Lumbourg, Third in command of the Defias in Elwynn Forest, strolled casually up toward the door of the old, shabby, one-story farmhouse. Truely the place was a dismal affair, the tiles on the roof were half gone, the paint looked like it had been done over a hundred years ago, and the termite infestation looked to have been there just as long.

The Brackwell Pumpkin Patch itself was really not even that impressive anymore. What was once a massive plantation several acres wide which provided the cities of Stormwind and Goldshire had been squandered over two short generations of bad mangagement. Two small parts of the crop giant had been lost to the subsequent revolts of the Stonefield and Maclure Families of laborers. The rest was merely lost to nature by cowardly workers and mangagement. Now all that was left was the Pumpkin Patch, and three pigs, albeit one of them a prize winner. All this made Darlansss wonder just how his superiors could've wanted this place as a headquarters in the region, but the incident with his hand and the dwarf's knife made him think diffrently about questioning orders.

Pushing his long Dark Hair out from his face and making sure his gun was securley-yet-menacingly placed upon his back, Darlans knocked upon the door. Three quick raps followed by two more longer ones.

taptaptap

tap

tap

That was the signal. Within seconds the sounds of locks being pried open was heard, and the door was slowly creaked open.

"Wh-wh-whats the password, man?" came the shaky voice of a human male, probably somewhere in his 40s by the sound of it.

Sighing, Darlans uttered in a mechanical, rehearsed tone. " Stonefields, Jansens, Fulbrows, Maclures, none have a garden as fine as yours. Now can I come in?"

Closing the door and pulling back one last chain lock, there stood a malnurished, disgruntled, and slightly terror-stricken Johnathan Brackwell. "P-Please, come in, make yourself at home." He said humbly, motioning toward the one respectable piece of furniture in the whole of the living area, a large red chintz armchair.

Taking his seat of honor, Darlans barely left Johnathan time to sit himself at a hardbacked kitchen chair before getting down to buisness. "1200 gold coins is our offer. That includes the patch, the house, the farm, all land around the farm you lay claim to, and all your remaining livestock."

"W-w-well, that's really not at a-all what I discussed with th-the l-l-last guy..." said Johnathan, not enough courage in his small frame to outwardly say 'NO' to the intimidating man.

"Well...sigh I suppose that We'll just-AH!" Unfortunantly the dark-haired man clad in all red would never get to finish that statement, because at that exact moment a distraction presented itself.

Rhodark sprinted directly toward the farmhouse, slamming through the slightly ajar door, and into the house of his food-providing friend, in which a quite interesting meeting was taking place.

"Yo-Jon-Pie-Now-Please?" sang Rhodark, totally oblivious to the man sitting in the chair not two yards from him.

"AHH!" Screamed Jon Brackwell, caught off guard more so even than his companion. Moments later he gained comprehension of his surroundings and began to reply. "Uhm, Pie? Well... I-i'm kinda-"

"We're very busy thank-" began Darlans to say, then got distracted again when he realized who was standing in the door way, "Wait a moment..." His face showed a sign of slowly dawning realization."You we're the one who almost bungled that Kobold deal!" he then rubbed his head, remembering the clonking the old miner had given him. "Hmm... come to think of it, that part of the woods last night did seem aful familiar... but never mind that, time to finish what I started, old man." Said the half bemused, half-enraged agent of the Defias Brotherhood. He raised his gun and took aim at the miner, and, in a shocking repeat of their last bout, Rhodark came up on the side of his head with his prized possesion.

Darlans, anticipating this movement at the last moment, dropped his gun to the floor and threw his hand up to grab the the handle of the mining instrument, his other hand flying to the ax hanging at his side, quickly unsheathing it.

Rhodark, who had no alternate battle plan than 'smash the guy in the head again', panicked and turned around, runing blindly in a random direction. Within two seconds he was face to face with a wall, and within another he was on the floor, half-concious from the impact.

Darlans showed extreme restraint by not bursting into hysterical laughter like he wanted to. He now moved over the aging miner, his eyes trained on Rhodark's half lidded ones, looking for signs of consiousness. "Well, well... looks like it's time to finish you off old-" here he lifted his ax high in the air, and it began to bring it down with stunning speed down upon the old man's face.

"WAIT!" cried the frightened young man who was now hiding behind his chair. Darlans ax stopped just inches away from Rhodark's face. "I-I'll sell the farm, just leave Rhodark alone, h-he m-m-means no harm, he just wanted some pie!"

Darlans quite nearly dismissed the boy's plea, knowing they'd just take the farm by force if he didn't fold. But he had been told that VanCleef wanted as few citizens harmed in their take-over as possible, and that taking Brackwell by force was not at all going to make him happy, so Darlans raised the blade back up, and turned toward his buisness accociate."Hmm... very good, then. Here's the gold." He said, untieing a rather large sack from his belt and tossing it on a rickety old coffee table in the center of the room."and here's the contract." He said, pulling a small scroll from his pocket. "Sign it."

_It was now or never. The Undead city put up much more resistance than had been anticipated. His forces were broken and scattered throughout the Undercity, only a portion of them still within proximity of their fearless leader. Rhodark knew that defeat was inevitable as long as the Forsaken still had their Dark Lady to rally around. Pulling all the men he still had controll of into a tight formation, Rhodark lead a charge down the narrow hallway leading toward the inner sanctum of Sylvannas Windrunner._

_Within minutes they were there, in the deepest sanctum of the city of zombies. Rhodark stared the dark lady in the face while his men took to eliminating her body guards. She gave off a faint smile and lifted her wand, pointing it toward him and said in a frigheningly echoing voice, "You're campaing of glory ends today human!" _

_She fired a massively powerful bolt of dark purple enegy toward his face, and all faded away._

Rhodark stirred about, unaware of where he was, or why he was there. He could hear the sounds of someone frenziedly scrambling about the house, probably looking for something, he could feel the small prickling of the splintered wood of the floor poking into his back through his flimsy mail armor. He could smell the delightful aroma of pumpkin pie through the distasteful scent of mold and mildew. He must've been in Jonathan Brackwells house, and good ole' John was searchin' around for his pie. Lifiting him self up off the floor into a sitting position with his arms, Rhodark use his full availiable brain power to formulate a sentence of some form.

"'ey, 'a' pie es tas'y John, tas'y 'deed" Even considering his normal speech patterns, his speech paterns were obviously hindered by his concusion.

"Ugh, must you regain consiousness?" said Darlans, disgust rampant in his voice. At that exact moment Jonathan returned a pen, inkwell, and a piece of pie, quickly dipping the pen in the ink and signing the contract. "Good, good. Now I must ask you to cease your tresspassing upon Defias lands. If you don't comply within two minutes I will be forced to destroy you." Said the red-clad man, smiling, his eyes showing a bit of madness and a lust for blood.

Johnathan, a tad revolted at himself for what he had just done, quickly moved to Rhodark and hefted him up onto his shoulder with one arm, carrying his promised piece of pie with the other. He quickly hobbled away from the house and across the patch, not stopping to bid farewell to his beloved Princess.

Upon reaching the road Rhodark's consiousness was stable enough to walk on his own, even if he did not know quite where he was going. "Oh, man Rhodark, what've I done!"

"Uh... I dunno, wut 'ave yeh dun?" said Rhodark, his voice back to normal agian... or at least normal for him.

"I sold the farm to those horrible Defias Bandits!" cried Johnathan, who looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Oh... 'ell did yeh get yerself paid?" Said Rhodark, not quite understanding the boy's distress.

"O-Of corse I did! B-but that doesn't make a diffrence! Now those horrible people have the Farm!"

"Uhm... so? The place wasn' in su' good shape anywa'... is tha' pie?" Said rhodark, eyeing the round baked good under Jonathan's left arm.

"Uhh? Oh, right, here." Jonathan handed the piece of pie to his famished friend.

"Delic'us!" Cried Rhodark, biting into it almost before the pie was in his hands.

"I d-dont see how you care so litte about this Rho! This is disasterous! One of us has to go and tell the authorities!"

"Oh, luck' thar's Goldshire," said rhodark, pointing out their proximity to the small town."Yeh realleh thenk weh need ter talk ter tha author'ties 'bout this?"

"YES! YES WE DO! Rho, this is something that needs to be reported to the keep! This is big news! This is something that even the King should be made aware of!" said a nearly enraged Brackwell, his face red and his breathing heavy after his outburst.

"Okay thi'n. Ah'll go." said Rhodark bluntly.

"Y-Y-You will?" Jon said, flabbergasted.

"Yeh! Me an' tha Highlord 're gud fr'nds." Said Rhodark, taking off toward Stormwind at a jog. Leaving John standing there on the edge of Goldshire, agahst, confused, and pieless.


End file.
